


The Care and Feeding of Blaine Anderson

by fhartz91



Series: Taking a Journey Together [34]
Category: Glee
Genre: Alternate Universe, Angst, Dom Kurt, Dom/sub, Established Relationship, Fluff, Future Fic, M/M, New York City, Power Exchange, Romance, Self-Esteem Issues, Sub Blaine, a mild bit of Cooper Anderson bashing, mention of BDSM situations, mention of an allergic reaction
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-07
Updated: 2016-11-07
Packaged: 2018-08-29 18:22:06
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,192
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8500318
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fhartz91/pseuds/fhartz91
Summary: When Blaine ends up having a severe allergic reaction to some makeup from the theater, Kurt vows to spare no expense to make sure that Blaine is taken care of and comfortable ... which is something that Kurt's sub isn't exactly comfortable with.





	

**Author's Note:**

> I would say that this takes place fairly early on in their relationship. Here we see some of Blaine's issues that he's brought into the relationship with him. He's uncomfortable with Kurt spending money on him, and he doesn't really feel that he's worth the kind of attention that Kurt pays to him. It also shows some of the subtle ways that Kurt dominates Blaine non-sexually in public. Inspired in part by this conversation - http://lady--divine.tumblr.com/post/152386191146/if-you-were-my-submissive-thered-be-no-spa-days.

“So, you’re sure this is a strong enough prescription?” Kurt asks, fidgeting in the thin plastic seat of the pharmacy lobby as they wait for Blaine’s name to be called. “You don’t need something stronger, because this …” Kurt gestures to Blaine’s irritated arms with a sympathetic whimper “… just looks so … so _painful_.”

“It’s not, Sir. Don’t worry.” Blaine shifts positions to hide his arms, but his Dom grabs them by the elbows. “And yes, this antihistamine should be fine. It looks worse than it really is,” he lies.

“Have you _ever_ had a reaction this severe before?” Kurt gingerly turns Blaine’s arms over to look at the undersides. The sensitive skin of his forearms have turned a shade of brick red that Kurt has never seen on human skin before. That’s saying something considering the number of years Kurt has spent working backstage during theatrical performances and fashion shows, having seen (at least, he thought) every allergic reaction to makeup, product, and fabrics known to man. Along with the splotchy discolored patches, Blaine’s skin is covered in a bevy of prickly bumps. Just looking at Blaine’s sandpaper-esque rash makes Kurt itch, so much so that he has to consciously stop himself from scratching.

“Not since I was a kid, Sir,” Blaine says, fighting the same urge. “Not since my brother … you know …”

“Yes, I know.” Kurt reacts bitterly, resisting snapping out the question _And how is the failed actor Cooper Anderson doing lately? Has he done the world a favor and dropped dead yet?_ Because even though things have gotten better between Blaine and his brother, from what Kurt can tell, he’s still the same unapologetically conceited and narcissistic asshole that’s ever rented a room at the Flushing YMCA.

Kurt takes a mental breath and sighs internally. That judgment might be unnecessarily harsh ( _might_ be), and Kurt digresses …

“Well, doesn’t that buffoon the theater has doing your makeup remember that you have sensitive skin?”

“Yes, Sir.” Blaine doesn’t automatically leap to her defense since she’s not exactly his favorite person in the world, but this time, he has to admit, it wasn’t entirely her fault. “It wasn’t the makeup she was using that caused the flair up. I think it was the brushes. She didn’t clean them in between because someone else borrowed them and …”

“Well, we’ll get you your own set of brushes then,” Kurt interrupts before Blaine can start making excuses for someone else who should have known better, who wasn’t doing the job they were hired and paid good money to do. “You’ll take care of them properly, and keep them under lock and key.” He fusses with Blaine’s sleeves, rolling them up so they don’t further aggravate his rash. “This way you won’t get any cross-contamination.”

“A new set of makeup brushes … that’s going to be expensive, Sir,” Blaine remarks quietly, stating the fact as plainly as possible so it doesn’t sound like an outright objection.

“P-shaw.” Kurt teasingly dismisses Blaine’s discomfort, not because it doesn’t matter to Kurt, but because Blaine is going to have to get used to Kurt spending money on him whether he’s comfortable with it or not. “You forget, I work for _Vogue_. Morphe and Sigma both would shit gold marbles if I made a personal request for a full set of their latest professional line brushes.”

Blaine smiles timidly at that image. “But … you shouldn’t do that just for me, Sir.”

“First off, don’t tell me what I should and should not do, pet,” Kurt says sternly. “Second, I’ve done it for myself _tons_ of times. I can sure as hell do it for you. I’ll give them a plug or something in the _Best Looks for Fall_ insert. That should even things out.”

“As long as it’s not a big deal, Sir.”

Kurt looks sideways at his dejected submissive, annoyed at his constant reluctance. “Well _this_ …” Kurt squeezes Blaine’s upper arms “… is a _big deal_ , so it’s _necessary_. I’m not going to have you itching up a storm when you should be focused on practicing your songs and your choreography.”

“Anderson?” a voice calls out. “Blaine Anderson?”

“That’s us.” Kurt stands from his uncomfortable seat before Blaine can make it to his feet.

“Now, it says here this is a refill of your prescription,” the smiling blonde behind the counter, wearing blue pharmacy scrubs and a bun in her hair, says as both men approach. “But would you like a pharmacy consult?”

“No.” Blaine shakes his head, taking the white paper bag with his medicine inside. “No, thank you. I don’t need one.”

“I have a question,” Kurt asks, subtly grabbing hold of Blaine’s belt before he can walk away. “How quickly will that antihistamine work? And how long before the rash goes away? I mean, Mr. Anderson wears body makeup for work, and I don’t want the rash to get worse before it gets better.”

“Model?” the lady asks, her smile notching up at the edges.

“Actor,” Kurt answers with a proud grin. “Here on Broadway, as a matter of fact.”

“Ah,” the lady says. “We get quite a few Broadway folks in here.”

“Is that so?”

“Yup. That’s one of the benefits of being this close to the theater district. We had Lin-Manuel Miranda come in last week to buy cough syrup for his son.” She sighs happily as she recalls, for one moment, that glorious afternoon. “In your case, you can get a barrier cream that will keep the makeup away from the rash ...”

“I see,” Kurt says, having assumed as much.

“… but you’re probably going to need to buy a different primer then. A lot of the barrier creams we sell are petroleum based, and that can cause a water based primer to slide.”

“Yes …” Kurt nods thoughtfully. “That makes sense. What about a lanolin based barrier? Something more natural, that’ll absorb into the skin faster?”

“That could work if he was doing anything other than performing on stage.” She glances at Blaine with the unsettling realization that they’re talking about this grown man as if he weren’t standing right there. But Blaine keeps his eyes glued to the bag in his hands, seemingly okay with not being a part of the conversation. And since the man standing right in front of her is asking the questions, she might as well answer them. “Even our best lanolin cream heats up something fierce with excessive activity and under bright lights. It would help the rash heal, but it would be extremely uncomfortable. And again, it may cause his makeup to shift.” The lady peeks left and right, then leans over the counter. “Can I be honest with you?”

“Of course,” Kurt says, inching in himself.

“The stuff we sell here, it’s not that effective for what you need. Even the stuff labeled _professional_ is nowhere near the level of a professional product. I would say that for a Broadway performer, you might want to check out what they have in skin care at Sephora.”

“Sephora,” Kurt repeats with a grin. “ _Now_ you’re talking my language.” He stands up straight and rubs his hands together. “I think it’s time I go cash in my reward points.” He shoots a wink at Blaine, who isn’t looking directly at him, so he redirects it at the lady behind the counter. “Thank you ever so much for your advice, miss.”

“You’re certainly welcome,” she says, beaming brightly. “Have a nice day now.”

“We will,” Kurt assures her.

She watches the two men curiously as Kurt snaps his fingers and Blaine falls in line behind him. She would say that the man she’d just been speaking with, who smelled like peppermint and confidence and dressed like a certified fashion icon, was treating his boyfriend (she assumes) like a dog, and that should offend her. But then again, this is New York, and one man snapping his fingers for another one to follow isn’t the _strangest_ thing she’s seen today.

That honor might go to the man in the purple straw hat she saw this morning, yelling insults at the STOP sign he was accusing of cheating on him.

Blaine waits until they’ve walked out the door of the pharmacy, then says, “Sir, may I speak?”

“You may,” Kurt answers, slowing his pace to walk beside his pet while he speaks.

“Sephora,” Blaine says, crinkling the bag in his hands. “The stuff there gets kind of expensive, doesn’t it?”

“It’s expensive because it’s worth it, pet.”

“But … don’t I get a say in this, Sir?” Blaine asks softly.

“No, pet.”

“Doesn’t it matter that you spending money on me makes me … uncomfortable?”

“Blaine” - Kurt stops and pulls his sub aside - “it does and it doesn’t. It matters to me because everything you feel matters to me. But it doesn’t matter to me because you’re being stubborn and not seeing the big picture. And that’s what _I’m_ here for, pet. I look after you when you refuse to look after yourself.”

“But … are you sure all of this is even _necessary_?” Blaine tries. “I’m sure the stuff they sell here will work just fine. It is a pharmacy, after all.”

“Didn’t the director put calamine lotion on your rash when you showed it to him, pet?” Kurt huffs.

“Yes …” Blaine says, shrinking because he knows where this is headed.

Kurt grabs Blaine’s arm, gently but firmly, and holds the red skin up to his face. “Do you really think it did the job, Blaine? Do you honestly want to take that chance just to save a few bucks that aren’t even yours? Tell me, Blaine. What’s the big objection to us getting something that’s going to make your life easier?”

Blaine’s head falls, his eyes finding the white and grey concrete beneath his shoes and not leaving it. He hears Kurt sigh, but he doesn’t know if it’s a calming sigh or a frustrated sigh. Blaine sees Kurt’s point. He really does. But eschewing “luxury items” is more than a habit for Blaine. Cutting costs and trimming corners has been a way of life for him. It’s what he’s had to do to survive on a teacher’s salary. And he’s been doing it for so long, he doesn’t know how to stop.

But that’s not his only concern.

“I … I just don’t know if I’m worth all of this, Sir.”

Kurt’s eyebrows shoot so far to his hairline that he’s certain they’ve popped off his head. Blaine doesn’t see it, or he may have laughed regardless of obedience and discipline.

“Are you kidding me, Blaine!? _Of course_ you’re _worth it_! Would you have gotten that part in the first place if you weren’t _worth it_? Would the theater have worked around your stupid school work schedule if you weren’t _worth it_? Would I be doing this for you at all if I didn’t think you were _worth it_?” He puts his hands to Blaine’s cheeks, caressing skin flushed from a public scolding. But the heat that immediately floods Blaine’s skin at Kurt’s touch is altogether different; his reaction to one simple touch intoxicating. “This is just the beginning for you, Blaine. Acting and singing – you have a _tremendous_ talent that has to be nurtured and cared for. Your body is your instrument. That means we take care of your skin, your nails, your hair, and your voice. It’s not vanity, Blaine. It’s a necessity. An investment, as far as I’m concerned.”

“Yes, Sir,” Blaine says. “If you say so, Sir.”

“I do say so, pet. Now, would you do me a huge favor and trust me? Isn’t that what you’re supposed to be doing? Isn’t that what you agreed to do when you signed that contract with me?”

“Yes, Sir. I did. And I do.”

“Then no more of this, Blaine. None of this arguing, do you understand?”

“Yes, Sir. I understand, Sir.”

Kurt slides in closer, coming cheek to cheek with Blaine so he can whisper in his ear. “You are _mine_ , Blaine. You are my submissive, my slave, my object, my doll, my possession. That’s what you agreed to. But first and foremost, you are my lover, and my best friend. If you need something to make your life better, something you can’t get for yourself or _won’t_ get for yourself, then I’m going to buy it for you. End of story. And you will use it the way I tell you to, or God help me, there will be _consequences_.”

“Y-yes, Sir,” Blaine answers, his voice shuddering at the thought of consequences, whatever they may be.

“Besides,” Kurt continues, “it’s not like you won’t be paying me back …” Kurt feels Blaine’s eyes lift in the flutter of his eyelashes against Kurt’s thumbs resting on his cheekbones. “With your mouth or in your ass, on your knees or on your back, with my cuffs or with my whips, one way or another …” Kurt hears Blaine gulp and he smiles, happy to see self-conscious Blaine gone for the time being and his beautiful submissive return “… because what you do for me, Blaine, is worth a hell of a lot more to me than money.”


End file.
